Why Donatello Drinks Coffee
by Donny's Boy
Summary: A threepart story, formerly a oneshot, about the claustrophobic stresses of a life filled with constant fighting, hiding, and fear. Features nongraphic MikeDon, LeoDon, and RaphDon.
1. Michelangelo

"Why Donatello Drinks Coffee"

By Donny's Boy

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the plot relating to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and I am making no money from this story. I mean no harm.

Warnings: Male-male relationships and implied consensual incest. No sex scenes, though, just talk about feelings. Still rated M just to err on the side of caution.

Dedication: My beloved fiancée requested a Mike/Don story, and I hate to disappoint her, so here 'tis.

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**Michelangelo**

The Shredder is dead. It should set Michelangelo's mind at ease, but it doesn't. It makes his mind race with a million thoughts and fears. It makes his heart pound in his chest.

It was after they met the Shredder, Mike realizes, that _it_ had first happened. But why Don? Maybe because out of the four of them, Donatello can best keep secrets. He's naturally quiet. He's patient. That must be why. The how was murkier.

He wonders if Don would agree.

Slipping out of bed, Mike creeps with ninja stealth to his brother's room and peers in. Nothing. Darn. The bed isn't even unmade. But Mike smiles, undeterred, and continues on to the lab. Bingo. He pauses in the doorway to watch his brother work on a piece of electronics—Don's large olive-green hands move swiftly, precisely. Like a surgeon. Though he loves watching Don work, Mike raises his hand and knocks lightly to announce his presence.

Startled, Don turns around. For a moment, confusion flickers across his face, then Don gives Mike a sympathetic smile. "Can't sleep?"

"Nope."

Don sets down the screwdriver he's holding. "Would you like to talk here? Or go back to your room?"

There was a time when a question like this would embarrass Mike to his very core. But that was before. This is now. Mike simply nods towards the door. "How about my room?" He glances around the lab. "Don't get me wrong, your lab has lots of bright shiny things—"

"But it somewhat lacks in material comforts." Don nods thoughtfully. "You're right, let's go to your room."

Together they move quietly, careful not to wake up anyone else. Once inside Mike's room, Mike goes to his bed and gets back in. Again, there was a time when Don would have hesitated, but tonight he follows without a moment's pause. He wraps his arms around his younger brother. "Nightmare?" he murmurs.

"Nah," says Mike, relaxing a bit and resisting the temptation to weep joyfully at being held so close to someone so warm. "Just thinking. About stuff."

Don chuckles, and Mike enjoys the gentle rumbling sensation it produces in Don's plastron. "Just stuff, huh?" Don repeats skeptically. "C'mon, Mikey. You know you always end up telling me anyways."

Mike reflects that, unlike Don, he himself is terrible at keeping secrets. "I was thinking about you. About … us."

A pause. "Oh."

"I finally realized something," Mike continues, reaching around Don's waist, pulling him closer. "We never go to your room." He can feel Don nod. "And I think I figured out why."

Don waits for him to continue. Not confirming, not denying, not asking anything. Donatello's like that. It frustrates Mikey to no end.

While hoping he isn't wrong—he doesn't want to look like an idiot or anything, especially not in front of Don—Mike feels pretty sure he's right. "You … you do this with Raph and Leo too," he ventures quietly, and it's more statement than question. "Don't you?"

Don clears his throat. "Well, not exactly," he begins. "But, yeah, sometimes I spend the night in their rooms. How'd you know?"

"Just a lucky guess. The whole thing where we always stay in my room, not yours." Mike smiles, proud. He'd been right. "And sometimes when you're not in your room, you're not in your lab either."

"Ah. I see."

"Do they know? About me? About each other?"

Mike feels more than sees Don shake his head. "I don't think so," Don says, a bit uncertainly. "If I'm not in my room, I think they just assume I'm in the lab and don't bother checking. Besides … " He trails off.

Squinting in the dark, Mike tries to make out his brother's expression. But even in the best of light, Don can be perfectly inscrutable when he wants to be. That frustrates Mike too. "You can tell me," he prods. "I tell you everything. I want you to be able to tell me stuff too."

"I don't want to upset you."

Mike frowns in confusion for a moment before it hits him. Oh! Silly Don! "It won't upset me, Donny. I'm not, y'know, jealous or anything. Just curious."

"Oh. Okay." Don clears his throat again. He seems a bit unconvinced. "Well, I think they're a lot more ashamed of it than you are. I don't think it's occurred to either of them that they might not be the only ones."

"So what do you do together?"

"That's really personal, Mike." Don tenses up. "I don't think they'd want me to talk about it—just like I don't talk about when we're together."

But Mike is, if nothing else, persistent. And he knows he can wear Don down, given enough time. "Do you do the stuff that _we_ do when we're together?"

"Sometimes." Don sighs, gives up. He's a smart guy. He knows a losing battle when he sees one. "But like I said, it's different. Because the three of you are different."

Mike decides to keep going. "So, you and Raph. I'm having a hard time picturing it, Donny. What do you guys do?"

"Mikey!"

"General terms only. Nothing too specific. Or explicit."

"Well, Raph and I don't … talk as much as you and I do."

Mike's eyes go wide. But in the dark he doesn't think Don can see the expression on his face. Instead of commenting, he pushes onward, "And you and Leo?"

"We talk a lot. More than you and I do, actually. Though, with Leo, mostly I talk and he listens." Don pauses, starts stroking Mikey's shell. Mike's eyes droop sleepily. "Leo says he likes listening to my voice. Helps him sleep."

Mike nods and offers, "I like your voice too."

Mike knows for a fact that if his eyes were still open, and if the room wasn't dark, he would see Don blushing a deep, deep green. He grins at the thought.

"There are similarities too," Don continues after a moment, still rubbing Mike's shell.

"Yeah? The physical stuff, I'd guess."

Don splutters a bit. "No!"

"So you're telling me you don't … well, you _know_?"

Don's silence says everything.

"So," Mike says, deciding to change course, "what's similar then?"

"You all tell me about your fears, what you're scared of. You all want me to hold you. Stay with you while you fall asleep." He pauses and sighs deeply. "And you all cry."

"Even Raph?"

Don kisses Mikey's forehead again. "Even Raph."

Mike's eyes finally close all the way. He nestles under Don's chin and listens to Don's heart beat. It's steady and soft and reassuring. Just like Don. "Y'know," he slurs, voice heavy with exhaustion, "it's simply process of elimination."

"Oh?" Don sounds amused. But willing to hear Mike out. He's always willing to hear Mike out, which more than makes up for all the frustrating stuff Don does.

"Yeah. I mean, who else would I go to? Leo? No way—any sign of weakness, and he'd have me doing extra katas all the freakin' time. Raph? Nuh-uh. He'd never let me live it down."

"Hmm." Don muses for a moment. "I never thought of it like that."

"Same with Leo and Raphie-boy, I'd imagine. Neither of 'em would come to me, because I'm the baby brother. Gotta set a good example, blah, blah, blah." Mike pauses. Grins. "And can you just picture Leo and Raph?"

That makes Don snort.

Mike keeps grinning. Smugly he concludes, "So, it's like I said. Process of elimination."

"I am deeply honored."

"You should be." The grin slips from his face, and suddenly Mike's all seriousness. "Don't you get it? You make me feel safe, Donny. Like it's okay, for just a little while, to stop having to be a badass ninja all the time."

Don doesn't reply. But his hug tightens a little. "I'm glad," he finally whispers. "Now try to get some sleep. Early training tomorrow."

Mike nods and pulls the covers up around them. He knows the drill. Don will stay until he's sure Mike's asleep before sneaking quietly back to his own room. Don is nothing if not consistent. While that could sometimes be annoying, right now Mikey finds it soothing.

As he drifts off, Mike wonders if Sensei suspects anything. Almost surely the answer is no. What they're doing is … unthinkable. Unspeakable. Unknowable. He finds himself hoping that, if Master Splinter ever does find out, he can understand, at least a little. He hopes even more that Don doesn't get all the blame. It's the dirty little secret that binds the brothers all in shame, true enough. But it's also what provides a release. From their stress, their fear, their loneliness. Their lives.

Don keeps their little family sane, without a doubt. Sleepily Mike wonders who keeps Don sane. But he can't finish the thought. All this heavy thinking is making Mike's brain hurt. It's too late, and he's too tired.

"I love you, Donny," Mike mutters just before the snoring begins.

After a few more minutes Donatello slips out of the bed, gently lowering Michelangelo's head to rest on his pillow. He kisses his sleeping brother's forehead one last time. "Love you too, Mikey."

He sneaks into the hall and down to his room, where he finds Raphael. Raph stands with legs splayed out, fists clenched at his sides, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Without a word Don follows Raph back down the hall, past Mike's room, past Leo's. As soon as they're inside Raph's bedroom, Raph grabs him by the neck and pulls him into a fierce, desperate kiss. As Don returns the embrace, he can feel the tears start streaming down his older brother's face.

It's going to be a long night. But that's okay. That's why Don drinks coffee.


	2. Leonardo

Author's Notes: Glad you enjoyed! I tried not to do something too exploitive or scandalous-for-scandalous-sake. But you were right … Leo and Raph deserve their moment in the spotlight, so here's one for everyone's favorite katana-wielder.

Warnings: A bit more kissing than Mike's chapter. Still nothing explicit.

**Leonardo**

Two hours before Michelangelo creeps into Donatello's laboratory, Leonardo is in the dojo, punishing his body with an intricate series of exercises. The perspiration pours off his shoulders, but he never lets up. He can't. He's too weak. They barely survived the Shredder, after all. His family deserves better than this weakness. He will beat the weakness out of himself, even if it kills him.

Weak! Slash. Weak! Kick. Weak! Punch. Then, even as focused as he is, Leo smells it. The smell of fresh coffee being brewed.

Coffee can mean only one thing.

Quickly Leo sheathes his katanas, grabs a towel, and wipes his sweaty brow. Then he heads towards the kitchen. Don sits at a table, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.

"Good practice?" asks Don, sipping his coffee, eyes never leaving the paper.

"Yeah." Leo sits down with him. "Where's Raph?"

Don glances up. "Topside, I think. With Casey, maybe?"

"Oh." Leo folds his hands on top of the table and looks at them. He studies the little scars on them, just a slightly paler green than the surrounding skin. "And Mikey?"

"Last time I saw him? Playing his new video game." Don frowns and adds thoughtfully, "But that was a while back."

"Oh."

Don sets down his coffee mug. He smiles gently. "Leo, they're both _fine_," he says. "And so am I. And so are you." He reaches out and brushes his fingertips over the back of Leo's hand. "Everything's okay."

Leo glances away—towards the bedrooms—then back. Though he doesn't pull away from Don's touch, his eyes won't look into Don's. He hears Don sigh.

"Would you like to talk?" Don suggests.

Leo bites his lip uncertainly. He knows what Don is asking, and he knows he should say no. God, if Sensei … he couldn't even think about it. No. Leo would say no and go back to the dojo, where he belongs. Then Don could go back to his lab, where Don belongs.

"We could … " Don trails off. He gives Leo's hand a brief squeeze before continuing, "We could go to your room. To talk in private? If you'd like?"

Still biting his lip, Leonardo finds himself nodding.

They pass Mikey on the way to Leo's room. Eyes never leaving the television screen, Mike shouts a "hello" to them from his station on the couch. Once in the bedroom, Leo sits on the edge of his bed while Don sits in the stiff wooden chair in the corner. It always goes like this. It's like a dance—one step forward, two steps back, a step to the side.

"So, Leo, what's on your mind?" Don's voice is pleasant and conversational. Calm and infuriatingly neutral.

Hands in his lap, Leo drums his fingers on his own thighs. He feels oddly impatient. He knows he's delaying the inevitable, but he still feels the need to resist. To fight what he wants so badly. It's very curious and, if it wasn't totally out of the question, Leo would ask Sensei about this paradox. He whispers, almost to himself, "We nearly died, Don."

"But we didn't."

"But we _could_ have."

"According to Kafka, we _could_ wake up as insects tomorrow."

Leo smiles, just a little. Don takes this as an invitation and slowly approaches the bed. He kneels down and places his hands over Leo's. Don's thumbs stroke lightly, soothingly, and the touch is too much. As the tears come to his eyes, Leo hangs his head.

In a flash Don is up and beside him on the bed, strong arms around Leonardo's shoulders, as Leo buries his face in Don's neck. He sobs silently, hanging on to his brother as though his life depends upon it while Don rocks them both back and forth. Leo doesn't try to stop crying. The shame will come later, but right now he needs this. He needs Don.

Impulsively he kisses Donatello's neck and is rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from the other turtle. Don glances down just as Leo glances up, so Leo seizes the opportunity and presses his lips to Don's mouth. Don tastes like stale coffee, and it's unspeakably comforting, for some reason. Very gently Don returns the kiss.

Pulling back, Leo looks into his younger brother's eyes. They are such a dark brown, they are almost black. Feeling particular fragile at the moment, Leo decides that tonight he doesn't want to … go any further. (Oh God, Sensei would not approve at _all_.) Tonight, he just wants to listen to Don's voice and be held.

"Tell me a story, Donny?" Leo asks, eyes large and hopeful. To his own ears he sounds childish, pathetic even. But Don never seems to judge. "Please?"

"Of course." Don gestures towards the pillows. "Lie down first."

Without protest Leo obeys. Don lies down beside him, his head next to Leo's on the pillow, arm loosely around Leo's waist. Their faces are so close that Leo can smell Don's coffee breath.

"I don't know many good stories," Don confesses.

"That's okay."

Don thinks for a moment. Leo allows his eyes to slip shut and listens to his brother's steady, deep breathing. Listening to Don breathe is almost like meditating, he realizes. "I could tell you the story of the founding of quantum mechanics," Don says after a minute.

Leonardo nods his agreement and snuggles closer.

Don chuckles. "I gotta warn you. It's really boring."

Not opening his eyes, Leo smiles. "Tell me about quantum mechanics," he murmurs.

"Okay, then. Quantum mechanics it is." Leo feels Don's large rough hands move away from his waist and allows himself a small groan as Don begins lightly massaging his aching shoulders. "You're really tight. Leo, have you been overworking yourself again?"

Darn. Busted. Time to pull a Mikey and deflect. "Weren't you going to tell me a story?"

Don grunts, and Leo can feel him shake his head in disapproval. Leo reaches up and caresses Don's face to mollify him. Sighing softly, Don kisses Leo's palm. Then, leaning nearer, Don begins, "The field of quantum mechanics really started with the study of the nature of light. After extensive tests and debate, physicists discovered that light has the properties of both particles and waves … "

Don doesn't get much farther then that before, still smiling, Leo falls asleep.


	3. Raphael

Author's Notes: The last but not least of Don's brothers. Love ya, Raph.

Warnings: Implied sexual relations but still nothing explicit. There's a time and a place for that, but it ain't here. Enjoy.

**Raphael**

Two hours after Michelangelo creeps into Donatello's laboratory, Raphael is alone with Don in his bedroom, palms sweaty, heart-rate spiking. Oh, God, that feels good. He grins and, a little more roughly than necessary, throws Donatello to the ground.

He is trying to delay the grand finale. He wants to make this last as long as possible, because he's afraid of what comes after. He wants this to be over, because he loves what comes after.

Donatello never complains and never speaks. He always responds to Raph's roughness with the same. Don's roughness was a bit surprising the first time. But Raph figures that Don's just following his lead, letting his older brother be in control.

Raph likes being in control.

With a final shudder and a happy groan, Raph flops onto the floor, utterly spent. Don crawls over and peers down at him, eyes very serious.

"Are you okay?" Don whispers in a concerned tone that is not entirely unlike how Leo sounds after a battle. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Without fail Donatello asks that afterwards. If it wasn't so damn sweet, Raph would find it really annoying. Actually, he still does find it a little annoying. Raph shoos his younger brother away. "Nah. You think I ain't tough enough to take it?"

"Oh, no, no, no. I definitely think you're—"

"Donny, that was a joke." Raph sighs. "Y'know, all this is supposed to _relax_ a guy."

Without deigning to reply, Don lies down on the floor next to him. Raph tenses. He's afraid of what comes now—as afraid as he is eager. He closes his eyes and, after a minute, feels Don's hand touch his cheek. Don caresses him wordlessly. Unbidden tears fill Raphael's eyes. Even after all these nights together, he still can't get over the unspeakable gentleness of Don's touch during these moments. It's wonderful and overwhelming all at the same time.

Before Don, there was little gentleness in Raph's life. There was training, there was fighting, there was roughhousing. But not since he was very small, small enough to still sit in Sensei's lap, has Raph been touched with anything like tenderness. As the tears slip down his cheeks, Raph feels Don brush them away.

"Are you sure I didn't—"

"I'm fine, Don! Jeez, can't you just shut up for one second? I swear, you're a big girl, with the way you always gotta talk after." Raph sighs and feels a sharp stab of remorse. He always ends up treating Don badly. Maybe because Don lets him. In a softer voice Raph adds, "Shut up and hold me, will ya?"

Don readily complies. He reaches around Raph's plastron and pulls him close. Raph wraps his arms around the beefy forearm across his chest and spoons against his brother. He's grateful that Don's holding him like this—facing away from Don means he doesn't have to look into Don's eyes. Looking at Don makes everything more real, and if this is real, Raph should feel guilty about it. He doesn't want to feel guilty just yet.

After a few minutes, Raph clears his throat to speak again. "I didn't hurt ya either, did I?"

"No. Not at all."

Raph grins in mild relief. He's always a little rougher than he means to be, and that worries him sometimes. "I just get kinda, well, caught up in the moment. Y'know?"

Don nods. "I know."

"Yeah." Raph sighs and allows himself to relax a little. Something occurs to him. "Hey, Don? You … you like it too, don't you?"

"Like what ?" Don sounds confused. Then when he realizes what Raph's talking about, Raph feels his brother's arms tighten their hold around him. "Yeah, of course I do. You don't think that I … "

"Let's be honest, Donny. I ain't the most observant guy around, and you sure ain't the easiest guy to figure out. And that means that, most of the time, I got no idea what's going on in that head o' yours."

Don's voice becomes very, very serious. "I like it, Raph," he says huskily. "I promise. I like it just as much as you do."

Raph doesn't reply.

"Wanna get in the bed? I bet it's a lot comfier than the floor."

Raph rolls his eyes but gets off the floor. He slides into the bed and moves over so that there's room for Don. As Don situates himself and lays his head on the pillow, his breath tickles Raph's face.

"Hey, Don," Raph whispers sleepily.

"Yes, Raph?"

Raph grins, though he knows Don can't see him in the dark. "Would it _kill_ ya to pop a breath mint once in a while, Coffee-Breath?"

Don laughs and kisses Raph, who growls in protest. After jerking back and swatting at his younger brother, Raphael laughs too. Then he pulls Don back towards him, and Don rolls over onto his other side so that his shell nestles against Raph's plastron. This is how they always lay as Raph falls asleep, because Raph likes this position. It makes him feel like he's protecting Don—from what, he doesn't know exactly. From life itself, maybe. Yawning, Raph throws an arm over his brother's waist and buries his face in the soft warm place between Don's neck and shoulder.

Don waits until he's certain Raphael is asleep before carefully disentangling himself from the embrace. Wearily he makes his way to the kitchen. He sets the timer on the coffee pot, so that he'll have some freshly brewed first thing in the morning, then heads for his bedroom. He groans as his head hits the pillow. He's bone-tired, but happy.

He sets his alarm for six-thirty. Unfortunately, that's only three hours from now.

As he drifts into sleep, he thinks about his three brothers: Mikey's warm laugh, Leo's hesitant kisses, Raph's strong arms. He thinks about how, at night, he gets to see Mike's seriousness, Leo's vulnerability, and Raph's playfulness. And Donatello chuckles quietly to himself, as if at a private joke, because he knows his brothers are convinced _he's_ doing _them_ a favor.


End file.
